The Father, not the Son
by Loopstagirl
Summary: Tristan De Bois swore that he would avenge his sister's death. But who precisely would feel that revenge?


**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Was watching 1x09 the other day and this just wouldn't leave me alone, so hope that you like it.**

It should have been a time of great celebration. Camelot had a new heir, it potentially had a future free from the strain of war now that the succession had been confirmed. There should have been great feasts, tournaments held in the prince's honour, even though he would not see them himself.

But instead, there was an unnatural hush over the Kingdom. People scurried about on their daily routine, barely passing pleasantries in the street for fear of falling under suspicion. There may have been a new life brought into the world, but there had also been the loss of one. And it was the loss of their beloved Queen that had caused the unnatural silence. Uther had not been seen since Arthur's birth, and the rumours were that the only time he had held his son was when Gaius had thrust the baby into his arms as he fought to try and save Ygraine. Instead of treasuring what he had left of her in the form of the son he desperately wanted, Uther had turned his attention to something else.

The pyres had almost been constantly lit since the day after the prince had been born. People were disappearing all over the place, some fleeing in fear of their lives, others being dragged away by exhausted looking guards. The Knights were constantly being sent out to the forests and borders, rounding up all they could find so that the King could take his revenge. It wasn't just an unnatural silence that had fallen over the great Kingdom, but one of fear. One of sheer terror that anything said could be taken the wrong way and it could be you, or a loved one, that was next dragged to the flames.

Just outside of the gates, a lone figure dressed in black listened to the hush and felt the fear of the people. Tristan De Bois glared at the castle, hoping that his thoughts would fly out of his head and do his bidding without him having to move from this spot. He didn't want to enter, didn't want to be reminded of his beloved sister every turn he took. But he had spoken with Agravaine when they had received the news of Ygraine's death (something he knew he had the Court Physician to thank for, Uther wouldn't have even thought of his wife's brothers in his grief) and they had both agreed that revenge must be sought. The common story was that she had died in childbirth, that was what the people were being told and Tristan knew that was what the majority believed. But there was something else going on, something he knew that Uther was responsible for.

But the King wasn't the only one responsible. At the end of the day, it had been the prince who had taken her life, Uther's precious heir. Tristan had a vague plan, one formed in grief. Arthur must be the one to pay the price. Not only would it shatter Uther, it would mean that they didn't have to look upon the boy and see her. For all of their sakes, Arthur must die.

Sighing, Tristan glanced around him before stepping into the courtyard. For a King that had been driven into paranoia, it was almost too easily to slip into the castle. Most of the guards were out hunting for sorcerers, being asked to betray friends and family alike for the King's belief that they must pay for his loss.

Tristan knew the layout of the castle well enough from his visits to know where he would need to go. Normally, he would have to sneak towards the royal chambers to find the new baby, but he knew that was not the case. It was as if Uther couldn't be near his son, and taking a less familiar path, Tristan instead turned towards the physician's quarters. Precisely half way between the King's room and the Physician's, he came across what he was looking for.

The door was partly open, a nursemaid slumped in a chair by the fire, her head resting on her chest as she snoozed. Good, that would make it easier. Tristan didn't want any more innocent's to suffer, save one. He slipped silently into the room, crossing over to a lavishly decorated crib. Despite himself, he had to smile sadly. The decorations betrayed the fact that Ygraine had had a strong hand in saying how her child was going to be raised. No nursemaid would have raised her child if she had a say in it.

Quickly, Tristan pushed the thoughts from his head. He couldn't think of the prince like that. He was Uther's son, a replica of his father, nothing more. One hand closed around the hilt of a long, thin dagger in the folds of his cloak as Tristan stepped up to the crib. The baby was in what looked like an uncomfortable position, his small face puckered up as if he was about to wake up and scream. That wouldn't do any favours for Tristan's plan, so without really thinking through what he was doing, he had scooped Arthur into his arms, settling the babe in the crook of his arm even as his other hand returned to the dagger.

He was going to end this, he was...Uther's son had to die. But then Arthur opened his eyes. Despite the blue of a normal baby's, Tristan knew that was not the case. Arthur's eyes were Ygraine's eyes. The same blue, the same spiralling emotions just below the surface, even for one so young. His head tilted slightly as he gazed at the uncle he knew nothing about. Something about Tristan must have been a comfort to him, for Arthur suddenly smiled, stretching out a small hand and gripping onto the cloak, gurgling in delight.

Tristan found himself frozen. He had come to kill Uther's son, the King's heir. His hand automatically tightened on the dagger, trying to steel himself to not back out. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the child, already seeing the beginnings of a blond hair. Ygraine's colour. He had her eyes, her hair. Was there anything of Uther that was reflected in the baby?

The infant gurgled again, tugging demandingly on the cloak as he fought for attention, and Tristan found himself smiling. Shaking his head, he drew out the dagger, refusing to look into Arthur's eyes again. But he couldn't help himself, he had to see her one more time. And the only way he could do that was by looking at her son.

Arthur's eyes had filled with tears at the sight of the dagger, something getting through to the child that it was a danger to him. But instead of screaming like Tristan expected him to, he just looked back at his uncle, an almost betrayed expression on his face as a few of the tears spilled over and trickled silently down his face.

Tristan dropped the dagger.

He wasn't looking at Uther's heir. He wasn't looking at the child who was responsible for his sister's death. He was looking at Ygraine's son. Arthur was all that was left of her now, and Tristan would not be the one to rid the world of her pure heart for good. Maybe it wasn't only looks that Arthur mirrored Ygraine in, maybe he would have more of her personality than Uther's? Maybe there was hope for them yet?

But he knew what Agravaine would say. His brother had always been the more dominant of the two, he would demand that they personally must seek revenge for the death of their sister, Very gently, Tristan placed Arthur back in the crib, a sleepy smile making its way onto the baby's face. Arthur snuggled in a little, his thumb finding his mouth as he blinked slowly at his uncle.

"Sleep well, little one. You have a great destiny ahead of you, do her proud." Letting his hand ghost across Arthur's head, Tristan picked up the dagger and returned it to its hiding place. Hearing footsteps, he melted back into the shadows of the room even as the nurse jerked away and immediately began fussing over the baby. Gaius walked in, exactly the way Tristan remembered him.

To his surprise, he ignored the nurse. Instead, he simply moved across the room and picked Arthur up. He was pacing, clearly agitated, but the presence of the baby was calming him. Arthur opened his eyes in irritation at being disturbed again, but as Gaius soothed him, settling the prince into his arms as he began to pace the room, the baby drifted back off to sleep.

It was many hours before Tristan could escape, finding himself reluctant to leave the infant he had come to kill. Even asleep, there were certain noises that Arthur made that just reminded him of his sister. She would never be gone, not whilst Arthur was around.

The next morning, a challenge went out to the King, a challenge to the death. Tristan was not afraid. If he died, it would have been trying to avenge his sister. If Uther died, Arthur would still have Gaius, the Knight was sure of it. Even when Uther's sword drove through him and he swore his revenge, Tristan didn't really mean anything by the words. He had done what he had come for. He had destroyed Uther's heir. But instead, he had replaced him with Ygraine's little boy.

He would be able to tell her when he met her shortly just how much Arthur mirrored her looks. As his last breath left him, Tristan smiled. She would like that, he was sure.


End file.
